Tag Archives: mental health

I’m Here…Just Consumed By Life

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Sorry I haven’t stopped by here since May 20th. Life’s been pretty consuming as of late, and I’m not as good about writing my way through periods like this as I was a year ago. Things are busy busy busy and I’ll be honest-sitting down to write has proved to be more difficult than I would like it to be. The words are there, waiting to be given life, the stories are stacked up on shelves in my brain, the desire is there, but it all just becomes a jumbled mess when I sit down to type or even write in my journal.

Part of it is because my brain is so scattered, thanks to my disorder and my recent hypomanic episodes and cycling. Part of it is because I become to preoccupied by my compulsions to clean, organize, and rearrange everything in our apartment. Part of it is because I’m fatigued and the energy I do have is poured into being  pregnant, mama, wife, housekeeper, cook, errand runner…the desire to create or give anything back to myself lingers quietly in folds of my heart, but never finds its way to execution. My mind is scattered and my hands feel inadequate, empty, unable to form the words or images that are mixed in the chaos.

Part of it is because I’ve become completely immersed in a new parenting approach with Alex and in implementing new routines and techniques I hope make like easier for him…and for all of us, really. I’m seeing how different and significant some of his needs are and in a lot of ways re-learning this whole parenting thing. From how I discipline, to the words and tone I use when speaking to him, to even how much pressure I apply when I touch or hug him, my whole posture towards parenting and mothering him has changed. Most of my days are consumed with being engaged with him in ways I wasn’t before. Learning about sensory processing disorder, autism, and what we’re learning from his therapists since April has given me new ways to engage and interact with him  that are different from how I did before. It’s been quite the learning curve-there’s so much more to be aware of these days! I’m more watchful, taking note of the slightest change in attitude or behavior (positive or negative), more apprehensive and mindful about how changes in routine, however slight, will impact him from moment to moment. In some ways I feel like I’m on high alert from the time he wakes up until he finally falls asleep after I’ve put him back in his bed and given him a deep pressure squeeze for the fifth or sixth time. I’ve had to become much more patient, learning to move at his pace, and how to move him along faster in a way that he can understand when we’re short on time. I’ve found that all of this has taken an energy that I, especially being pregnant, barely have the reserves for. The simplest things from washing his hands to getting dressed to helping desensitize his facial muscles before his speech therapy sessions is all a process; exhausting and consuming, but one I’m committed to helping all of us navigate and learn as best we can.

Part of it is because I’m committed to being well during this pregnancy and am forcing myself to focus on self-care. This becomes increasingly difficult when pregnancy is kicking my ass, particularly when migraines attack, and my blood pressure is low. The migraines have been pretty frequent this pregnancy; during a good week I only get one, during my worst I’ve had them for 4 days straight. Functioning when I’m a wreck physically feels impossible, but I somehow get through making sure the kids have what they need for the day and that’s about it. Aside from eating and taking my medications, taking care of myself takes a backseat and I have to fight to make things like taking a shower, combing my hair, getting in any kind of exercise or leisure activity a priority. Overall I’m doing better on the self-care front than I have in the past, especially during my last pregnancy.

All of this focus on concentration on these other areas of my life leave little for my writing here and painting….advocating even. I had all of these plans for my creative pursuits this year but the mental and creative bandwidth I need to execute them isn’t what I’d like it to be. For some reason I can’t seem to find space for those two to fit in my life as of late and this does sadden me. Frustrates me. Leaves me to wonder how I’ll fit them in when there are THREE children to give my time and attention to. I’m hoping I can find a way….I’m in awe of those who’ve found a way to balance and navigate it all.

At any rate, while I find it hard to write and paint these days, I have found it easy to keep up with vlogging-probably because I can just do it on my phone while I’m on the go and have a few minutes alone. So I think that’s just what I’m going to have to do for now because it’s the one thing that I can keep up with that fits in best with everything else. It’s the one thing I feel I can keep up with right now on this front. I’m hoping to write here during the summer, but know that if you don’t see me here, you’ll be able to find me on my YouTube channel, addyeBeesWorld, where I’ll mostly be sharing the nitty-gritty of navigating bipolar disorder while being a pregnant mama. Feel free to watch and subscribe-I’ve done videos for weeks 15, 16, and 17 so far (I tell you what we’re having in my second video for week 16!) And of course, I’ll always be on Twitter :) (@addyeB)

So that’s where I’ve been, what I’ve been up to, what’s going on. I’m still here…I’m just consumed is all.

Maybe I just need to Lean In…anyone have Sheryl Sandberg’s number?

My Bipolar Life: My Pregnancy Video Diary Begins

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I decided to take “My Bipolar Life” in a new direction and turn it into a video diary of sorts for this pregnancy.

As with my other videos, this one goes against all vlogging rules-it’s just me, talking, unscripted. I hope you don’t mind the lack of editing, the “ums” and my losing my train of thought at times :)

My goal is to do at least one of these a week. There might be more-just depends on what’s going on, if I have some thoughts I want to share, where I’m at mentally, etc. Hold me accountable?  Oh and subscribe? Thanks.

 

 

Kicking Ass, Warrior Mom Style: An Update and a New Mission

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It’s been a long week. It’s kicked my ass, but rest assured I’ve been fighting back. Monday, as you know, I learned that the VA (the Central TX VA healthcare system in particular) does not provide psychiatric treatment for women … Continue reading →

The VA Mental HealthCare System is Failing Me…and My Baby.

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The pregnancy test flashed a positive sign on a Wednesday.

Two days later, a Friday, I was sitting in front of the nurse practitioner at the Cedar Park VA Outpatient Clinic, waiting patiently for the lab to confirm what EPT had already told me. When the confirmation came, there was a congratulations, a D.O.D standard “Guide to Pregnancy” book placed in my lap, and instructions from my primary care doc to stop all of my medications immediately. No Clonazepam, no Fluoxetine (Prozac) and no Lamictal. I left the clinic with these words and a promise from the nurse practitioner: “I’m going to see Dr. A once she’s done with her current patient and find out what she recommends, ok? She’ll be able to give you the proper guidance on what to do about your medications, being that she’s your psychiatrist. I’ll call you as soon as I speak with her.”

Friday afternoon came and went. No phone call.

Sunday afternoon came and I had already started to notice my mood shifting and withdrawals setting in.

Monday morning: I called and was put on hold. Left a voicemail. Called two hours later, left yet another voicemail with the nurse for the my primary care doc. Called back and tried to leave a voicemail for my psychiatrist and was unable to-the phone just rang without an answer. “She’s in the office, ma’am, how about I take the message for you?” said the vet volunteer working the front desk. Ok. Left the message. Checked my phone obsessively for the rest of the day-nothing.

Tuesday morning: Called back-left more messages. Nothing.

I spent the rest of that week freaking out from med withdrawal and anxiety over what to do. Fed up with the lack of response on the VA front, Bertski and I decided that finding outside, non-VA care was the way to go, even if we had to pay out-of-pocket until I was verified as a dependent under his insurance at work. A recommendation from a friend led me to Austin Area OBGYN and my new OB. I made an appointment, and even though it was weeks away, I was able to speak to a nurse about my medications. Within an hour I had more informed guidance: “Dr. S says you can continue to take the Prozac, but not the Clonazepam. He says that while Lamictal is relatively safe to take during pregnancy, he would prefer you to try to stay off of it until the end of your first trimester-the incident of a birth defect like cleft palate forming with Lamictal is very, very low, but he always advises staying off of it the first 12 weeks just to be even more cautious. HOWEVER if you feel yourself start to struggle and you feel you need to start taking it sooner, just let us know, and we can work with that, ok? Come in for lab work tomorrow so we can see how far along you are, ok, honey?”

I don’t think I’ve ever breathed a larger sigh of relief than I did when I hung up the phone with her. Later that day, when I checked my mailbox, there was a “CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR PREGNANCY!” package from the Women’s VA Health Clinic in Temple. (Note: all of the VA outpatient clinics & hospitals in Central TX are all spread out-there’s one in Austin, Cedar Park, Temple, Waco and Bryan College Station.) There was nothing from my primary care doc or psych in Cedar Park, and I still had not received a phone call returning my messages as promised 7 days prior. I threw the package in the trash, completely disgusted.

That next Monday it came-an appointment card from the clinic in Cedar Park telling me I had an upcoming appointment with my psych. I laughed-it wasn’t the first time this had happened-her just scheduling an appointment instead of actually returning my messages, but I thought being pregnant would have warranted her actually making the effort to call me. (What’s faster-a phone call or the mail? The mail, OBVIOUSLY!)

I went into that appointment on March 28th ready to give her the benefit of the doubt. I left vowing to no longer allow her to be in charge of my care.

Um…why didn’t you call me back? I’ve been waiting to find out what to do.

“I did call you-I didn’t get an answer.”

Um…no you didn’t-I don’t have any voicemail from you and I’ve watched my phone like a hawk waiting to hear from you.

“Well, I called, if you didn’t get it, that’s not my problem. Anyway, in my opinion, someone in your condition getting pregnant is just irresponsible.”

What?

“I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t be on any medication-you need to give your baby the best & healthiest start possible. Taking medication in my opinion is causing your baby harm.”

What if I have an episode during the pregnancy? What about postpartum psychosis? My OB said Lamictal and Prozac are safe!

“Well, I don’t agree with that. All of the research says otherwise…these are things you should have considered before getting pregnant.”

WHAT research? Everything I’ve read and what Dr. S has told me is the complete opposite of what you’re saying. The incidence of the birth defects associated with these two meds is very low, I’ve read this myself…there are women with epilepsy who take Lamictal at much higher doses-

“So are you just going to go with what he’s saying? Fine. Do you need psychotherapy? Individual therapy isn’t available through the VA here, but I can see if the social worker here at this location is available-I doubt it though-she doesn’t do therapy.”

I left that office shaking from the anger surging within me. That was it. Bertski and I agreed that day to no longer have anything to do with her-I’d try to find a private psychiatrist or have my care transferred to a new one at the Austin clinic. Her misinformation and lack of knowledge just wasn’t acceptable, and besides-it wasn’t the first time I’d had problems with her lack of communication and dismissive attitude. It’s what played a significant role in my being hospitalized back in October. Fed up with her neglect and lack of professionalism? Yeah, understatement if there ever was one.

I’ve spent the 6 weeks since then struggling to manage my symptoms while dealing with the yuck of the first trimester, Alex’s autism and SPD diagnosis and entrance into therapy, searching for a therapist who accepts our insurance (or has an affordable self-pay option), and pushing myself to hold on until the 12 week mark, which is tomorrow. I’ve also been working with the women’s health outreach specialist to get a new psych through the VA, at the Austin clinic. They’re so backed up, she put in the consult 6 weeks ago, and it’s still pending. (She was, however able to secure the authorization necessary to have the VA cover my prenatal care and delivery so I don’t have to pay out-of-pocket or use Bertski’s insurance which only covers a certain amount-so at least that’s a win.)

I called the VA pharmacy in Waco to have my Lamictal and Prozac refilled today (since I only have a 10 day supply left of both) ONLY to find out that they’ve been discontinued thanks to Dr. A. DISCONTINUED. She discontinued my medications and did so without informing me. No correspondence, no phone call, no explanation. NOTHING.

Needless to say I’m enraged. Even more so than I was before because instead of just jeopardizing MY health, she’s jeopardizing that of the baby’s and that has me wanting to FIGHT. Fight for my right to better treatment, and fight because, well, WHO THE FUCK IS SHE TO DO THIS TO A PATIENT?! Maybe it’s just me but I don’t see how any of this is ethical.

I’ve spent the morning making phone calls to file complaints and to even try to get ahold of her and the director of the clinic to no avail. She’s not answering her phone (of course) and the director is on vacation until May 17th. The women’s health specialist is aware of what’s going on and assured me she’s going to do something to “fix” things, but honestly, I don’t even TRUST anything VA related anymore. This infuriates me because as those of you who have been reading here since 2011 know, my psych at the VA hospital in Philadelphia was AMAZING, as was the mental health clinic and psychotherapy services there.

I’m a 100% service connected disabled veteran. I’m pregnant. I have a mood disorder. I shouldn’t have to deal with this kind of treatment. I shouldn’t be scouring Austin looking for a therapist because the VA here doesn’t offer separate, individualized psychotherapy therapy for women in my situation. (Or women period-When I discharged from the hospital in October, I was told repeatedly that they just have general support groups-nothing specialized or one on one for women.) I also know that I can’t be the only woman vet in the Central TX region who has had to deal with this pathetic system and its inadequacies. But outside of reporting her, what else can I do? I don’t just want her reported, I WANT HER AND OTHER VA DOCTORS HERE INFORMED. Informed on medications and treatment for women with mood disorders during pregnancy. Trained. Educated. I want better for my fellow women vets. Since moving here I have encountered nothing but poor treatment and bureaucracy. The Central TX VA Healthcare System has done nothing but inhibit my ability to have consistent, quality, and effective mental health care.

What can I do y’all? How do I fight this so that they stop failing myself and others?

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Update: I spoke with the women’s health outreach specialist, and she informed me that my meds were discontinued because the VA doesn’t want to assume any liability if something happens to the baby as a result of my being on psychiatric medications. Per the Chief Medical Director of the Women’s Health Clinic in Temple, TX: “The VA can’t assume responsibility for anything that may happen as a result of her staying on these medications during her pregnancy. Our psychiatrists are not experts in this area whereas a private obstetrician is. If he says these medications are safe for her to take during her pregnancy and he will write her a prescription for them, then she can bring that prescription to the VA pharmacy in Austin and we can fill them that way. If something were to happen, then this private OB is the one responsible, not the VA. Unfortunately this is what we have to do in situations such as this.”

So. There you have it. The VA has practically rid themselves of me during my pregnancy due to my having a psychiatric condition and I’m suddenly a liability concern. Question: WHY aren’t VA psychiatrists educated in reproductive psychiatry when women veterans comprise at least 10% of the veteran population and have children and are suffering from mental health issues like PTSD, Military Sexual Trauma, Depression, Anxiety, and others as a result of their fighting in combat and service?

Now what?

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Update #2: Several of YOU helped me flood The Department of Veteran Affairs twitter feed, sharing my angry tweets and this post with them and others like the local Fox News station here and even Rachel Maddow! At 5:29pm I received this response from their Twitter account: “@addyeB Dismayed by what happened. I’ll make sure the patient advocate in Austin hears about this.” Not sure if this will actually lead to effective action, but I’ll keep putting on the pressure until it does. If you’d like to help me apply that pressure directly to this patient advocate at the Austin clinic, comment here or email me! bconfessions at gmail dot com. Thank you for supporting me through this!

My Hard Truth

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Before I spill my guts here today I want to make sure you understand something from the very beginning: What I’m going to talk about speaks solely to MY experience as a mother who’s lived with antenatal depression and PPD and who has a child with developmental delays and is on the autism spectrum. I can’t speak for other women and their experience or how their illness-treated or untreated-may or may not have had an impact on their child’s development. I’m choosing to share this because honestly? I’m having a hard time processing it on my own. I don’t have a therapist to talk with about it right now, and keeping it all to myself is only allowing shame to breed ugly thoughts and emotions; thoughts and emotions I definitely don’t need right now considering I have a family to take care of, am currently off of 2 of my meds until my 2nd trimester, and I have a new baby growing within me. This is how things have played out for us-I’m in no way claiming this is how it will play out for others.

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11 months ago, I wrote a post about Alex’s 2yr well visit and how his pediatrician at the time had expressed his opinion that the developmental delays we were concerned about were linked (at least in part) to my untreated antenatal depression, PPD & anxiety. You can read it here; doing so will give you more context.

When I wrote that post I was hurt, wracked with guilt and defensive. I was confused-I didn’t know what to make of what he had said and I honestly didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to believe it because I was afraid to. Allowing myself to acknowledge he may have been right would’ve just ripped the band aid off of the wound I had worked like hell in therapy to stop bleeding.

But like I mentioned in my post last year, I had read the studies, the articles, what the experts had to say about untreated depression in mothers and it’s effects on their children. I had read the stats about low birth weight and premature labor and caught my breath every time, knowing how small he was, how I’d gone into labor 3 weeks early-but I secretly hoped he wouldn’t “fit” the others about developmental struggles. (Again, links to some of those studies and articles are in the post linked above.) The knowledge pulled and gnawed at me every time I struggled to engage with Alex. The shifts in mood, the struggles to get him to do simple things like eat, wash his hands, or even just accept hugs and kisses from Bertski and I without withdrawing first. Every time I watched him shut down around people, or scream in terror when approached by children on the playground, my insides, my heart twisted. When he stopped eating nearly everything and would only touch hard, rough textured food….when we were told by early intervention he was delayed at least 25% in speech and possibly more in other developmental areas….as I watched his symptoms become more pronounced over the course of the past 11 months, my mama gut begged me to turn a deaf ear to fear and just face reality, listen to what it was trying to tell me. I wasn’t going to be able to help Alex if I didn’t. I wasn’t going to be able to be the mother he needed me to be if I didn’t.

So I did, and I started talking to Bertski about it a few months ago. He expressed that he had been watching Alex and having the same thoughts about his behavior and development and what had possibly caused him to develop the way he had. We agreed that in addition to my illness being untreated for so long possibly being a factor, the instability of our relationship during Alex’s first two years was likely a factor as well. It was a tough set of conversations…thinking about them still makes me cringe. But I’m glad we had them because it enabled us to move forward in seeking help. We knew Alex needed more help than we could give him and WE as his parents needed help parenting him. His issues had started to become beyond us and the daily struggle of trying to navigate them was overwhelmingly frustrating and discouraging.

His 3 year visit was two weeks ago, with a new pediatrician here in Austin. We told her everything, with her interjecting a question or two every now and then. She listened attentively until we finished spilling our parental guts out to her. She was quiet for a few minutes and then started to give her thoughts: “It’s obvious he’s very smart-I can see that for myself in just the short time he’s been in here. But from my brief observation and what you’ve told me I would go ahead and say he’s definitely on the autism spectrum. My initial guess would be high functioning but he does have significant speech and socialization deficiencies. Further evaluations will give us more information. The good news is we’re catching it now-early intervention is crucial. We’ll get him into various therapies and by kindergarten I’m confident he’ll fit in just fine with other kids in a regular classroom environment. He’ll catch up, he’ll excel. I’m sure even within just 6 months we’ll see significant improvement.”

We walked out of that appointment with an answer, with hope even, but also with some sadness. A heaviness rested on us for the remainder of the day. Even though we had been preparing ourselves to potentially hear such a diagnosis for Alex, the reality of it still hit us pretty hard. I can’t speak for Bertski, but I know for me, the guilt was excruciating that day. I called and talked with the pediatrician about it some more, explaining my illness and how it impacted my ability to bond and interact with him during my pregnancy and his first year and a half. I expressed to her what my difficulties had been and she didn’t shame me for them:

“Based off of the research, your history, and where he is developmentally, I’d say it is highly likely that there’s an association. Being depressed and not having effective treatment can definitely have the kind of impact on a child’s development and behavior like we’re seeing in Alex. But you don’t have to blame yourself for it. You’re helping him now-he’s older and you’re recovered and managing your Bipolar as best you can-that’s what’s important. Yes, this happened, but it’s ok, you’re getting him help just like you sought help. It’s not your fault, Mrs. Nieves.”

No, being depressed during my pregnancy and struggling with PPD and anxiety the first 2 years of Alex’s life wasn’t my fault.

I would even go as far as to say that not being treated for so long wasn’t my fault either-there was so much I just didn’t know, and when I did express what I was enduring to those around me and my OB, I was told it was all “normal,”…given time, I’d be “fine.”

You know, they say we can only do better when we know better. Given my circumstances, I know I did my best and when I couldn’t, I fought to.

I don’t think I failed Alex. I do think my illness failed both of us-it robbed us of having a strong start and that’s what hurts me the most when I think about how it’s impacted him.

But I’m learning now how to use the hurt to lay a new foundation for us to build upon. I’m learning how to advocate for him and learn all I can to help him like I’ve done with myself and my illness. Alex has started ABA therapy and is already showing progress. He has upcoming evaluations with speech therapist to work on improving his language and an occupational therapist to help with his autistic and sensory related struggles.

(sigh)

Accepting that there’s possibly an association between my illness during pregnancy and Alex’s development struggles is a hard truth to stare in the face y’all. I know it’s not everyone’s truth, but it’s MY truth and I’m working hard once again to process it, heal from it, ditch the guilt over it, and move on now that I know where he’s at. I’m not sharing this to say that what’s true for me and Alex is true for all moms with untreated antenatal depression & PPD. It’s not at all. But I am sharing it to say that you know those effects they talk about in those studies? I’m watching my son live with them. It DOES happen. It’s in the minority, but it does happen-I wish it was talked about more-not to shame anyone, but to help women understand that they don’t have to BE ashamed that this happens. Does that make sense? I hope it does.

I’m not here to scare anyone or have you think that you and your child are in the same boat as we are. Definitely not. But I am here to say that if you ARE in the same boat we are-It’s ok. It’s not your fault. Illness may have robbed you and your child of a strong start, but don’t let guilt rob you of anything else. I know it hurts like hell, and you feel like you could’ve done more, but you did your best with what you had and don’t let shame deceive you into thinking otherwise. You’re still an amazing mama to your child. You’re not a bad mother. Our children will be okay because they have us and they have others to help them get to where they need to be.

If your child is showing signs of delays-don’t let shame keep you from getting help. Ask for evaluations and resources. Talk to their doctor and ask about Early Intervention. Be open. Be honest. Be their advocate just as you’ve been for yourself.

I hope this made sense. It’s late and I’ve had a rather emotional day. Also? I could REALLY use a friend in this particular boat.

The Surprises Keep on Coming….

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I mentioned in one of last week’s posts that I submitted two pieces for BlogHer’s Voices of the Year and explained why. I submitted them knowing full well that I had no plans of attending the conference this year (or desire to); as I explained in that post, I was submitting them just because I felt like taking a leap forward and opening myself up to opportunity, really.

On the same day I submitted those pieces, I found a surprise greeting me in my inbox at the end of the day-an unexpected opportunity. It was an email from Shannon (@mrlady), BlogHer’s conference programming manager, and I couldn’t peel my eyes off of the subject line:

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When I was finally able to read the rest of the email, I put the phone down and immediately started pacing back and forth in my living room, my mind flooded with thoughts….

Me? 

Whoa. 

What?

ME?

I’m small potatoes…how’d I get on the radar for something like this? What about [insert name here] or [insert name here]? THEY should be the ones doing this….

How will I get there? 

I’m not a speaker….

What will I say?

I’m not worthy of this…there are SO many others who I know deserve this and are better advocates and have bigger platforms than me. 

What will Bertski say? 

Of course when I called him, he left no room for doubt-I was going to accept the invite and we would use this opportunity to take the boys on a family vacation. He’s so damn supportive, especially when he knows I’ll talk myself out of something great like this.

I hung up, emailed Shannon back, and yesterday I officially accepted my speaker’s invitation to BlogHer’s HealthMinder Day. I’m being afforded the chance to do what I do here on the blog-talk about mental health and what it’s like to share my experiences with it with all of you-the rewarding, the hard, the reasons why I continue to do it, etc.

I’m excited. I’m humbled. I’m honored. I’m scared shitless. I’ve never spoken to a room full of strangers on this level, EVER. I don’t feel worthy, especially when I consider what amazing writers and bloggers my co-panelists are, AND when I think of the other amazing writers and women who blog about mental health and deserve an opportunity to share in a forum such as this.

I don’t feel worthy of it, but I know that it’s the right opportunity for me to say yes to-does that make sense? It feels authentic to the kind of writer I am, and what this space is…I don’t feel worthy of it, but at the same time I realize that playing small when opportunities such as these present themselves to you serves no one, least of all yourself, so I’m choosing to be grateful and enjoy every part of this. Besides, when I asked Kelly (@mochamomma) if she had any advice and told her how nervous I was, she had this to say: “Remember why you write. Speak your truth. Drop the fucking mic.” Pretty much the kick in the ass I needed to step into the moment and accept the gig. Yep.

Do I hope to gain anything out of this? Sure-I hope to gain connection-connection with others in a healthy, constructive and empathetic dialogue about sharing our experiences with mental illness and wellness. I want to encourage others to share their mental health related stories and I want to also be encouraged to keep doing the same-Lord knows I’ve almost nuked this space at least once a week since the new year began.

So….I’m going to BlogHer this year! As a speaker for HealthMinder day! I’ll be here-Will I see you there? I hope so-go register and then let me know you’re coming so we can meet up :)

Also, moral of this story: Always leave a little room for opportunity-you never know what it has waiting for you.

Also, also: Marriage. Baby. Speaking gig. 2013 better stop blowing my mind with all of these surprises.

Let's talk about mental health in the online space, shall we?

Let’s talk about mental health in the online space, shall we?

HEY YOU: Don’t Drink the VOTY Kool-Aid

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I gots some thangs to say…..forgive me if this just kinda tumbles out, I’m not in the mood to filter much today. Here we go:

Yesterday I listened to a heart whisper and submitted two pieces for BlogHer’s 2013 Voices of the Year, one visual, one written.

I submitted them because one of my words for this year is “pursue,” and when it comes to my writing and art, my intention this year is to pursue opportunities for them to be showcased. Why? Why the hell not? I write and paint for myself first and foremost and will always do so even if I have zero readers and the world thinks my art is a travesty, BUT I’m also a storyteller who believes in the power of sharing your experiences with others. Writing and painting save me from the parts of myself that thanks to illness are hell-bent on destroying me-and so does sharing about my life through the written word and visual art. Sharing my stories here and through paint are my way of giving back-I hope that at some point, what I share and convey in what I create helps someone on some level, in some area of life be it motherhood, mental illness, abuse, or just life in general.

I also submitted because hey, who doesn’t like to connect with others and be heard? And who says it’s wrong to be proud of what you’ve created? What’s wrong with just going for it, JUST BECAUSE you never know what will become of it? YOLO! Am I right?

I said all of that to say that I didn’t submit my pieces because I think other people will find them moving and valuable, worthy of attention. I shared them because I FIND THEM VALUABLE, MOVING, AND WORTHY. Maybe if my piece on being bipolar and a mother is selected, maybe another mom who was just diagnosed will find it and find some comfort-or find a way to contact me so she can find someone to talk to or ask questions. Maybe if my piece is selected people will stop believing people with an illness like bipolar disorder are incapable of being quality parents and raising healthy kids. But if I had decided to NOT submit that piece, then the chances of that happening are significantly reduced considering how “small” I am in the blogosphere. So I saw an opportunity to be an advocate, be a storyteller, honor MYSELF for owning my story, and took advantage of it-Like Nike, I just did it. Insecure, vulnerable, and all, dammit I sat my ass down, read through my stuff and submitted.

Maybe for you, it’s not about any of this. Maybe you just want your work to be heard, be seen, be validated, be recognized. Maybe you wrote some funny shit and you want others to recognize you’re the next Richard Pryor or Sarah Silverman. That’s OK. It really is. Go ahead-submit! Honor your work. Pat yourself on the back, man. Be proud.

For those of you who are discouraged by this whole VOTY thing, hear me: STOP WAITING FOR OTHERS TO VALIDATE YOU AND YOUR WORK AND VALIDATE YOURSELF. STOP DRINKING THE DAMN VOTY KOOL-AID. I’m watching so many of you flog yourselves and doubt your self-worth and value as a blogger, writer, and fucking human being because no one is nominating your work. I get why it’s a downer, and trust me, I think the voting aspect of the process is asinine and I know that’s what’s discouraging so many of you from submitting. But I learned a couple of years ago that sometimes you can’t wait for others to celebrate and honor you, you’ve got to do it yourself, fuck everyone else. THROW YOUR OWN DAMN PARTY. Stop waiting for an invite. NO ONE will take pride in you or what you’re putting out there if you don’t.

96 of the pieces that will be selected as VOTY will be selected by the committee-guess what? They are reading each and every piece submitted whether it has 500 votes or 0. So even if you’re small potatoes like myself, your work will still be seen. Shouldn’t that matter more than some damn votes? Even if your piece isn’t selected, you never know who will become a fan of your work just because they were on the committee and read your piece. You don’t know what kind of opportunities could come out of this. And even if nothing comes out of it, shit, pour a drink and cheer yourself for having the balls to do something so many people wouldn’t.

I know when you’re a small fry in the blog/writing arena it’s easy to get intimidated and feel left out because those with bigger platforms are being nominated, called out, read, and recognized-and recognizing their own peers. But hear me: SMALL DOES NOT EQUAL INSIGNIFICANT  and is in no way an indication of the value and worth of your work and your story.

So STOP DRINKING THE VOTY KOOL-AID. Submit something if it’s on your heart to do so. (Heart whispers are meant to be listened to-unless it’s telling you to go kill someone. If that’s the case, get a new fucking heart ASAP.) Go find a favorite piece from someone you read and submit it to honor them-if they’re a fellow small fry, I can guarantee you it will make their day and probably encourage them to keep writing, sharing, owning their story.

So. What are you still doing here reading this? GO. Bye!

I’m Getting Married! Help Me Celebrate, Would Ya?

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My ring! Thank you Zales!

Guess who’s getting married y’all?

ME.

To Bertski.

If you’ve been a reader here for at least the past year, or know me personally, you know how huge this is considering how much he and I have been through the past three and a half years.  If you had walked up to me exactly a year ago today and told me that I’d be planning a wedding to the man I was separated from at the time, I would’ve shaken my head and walked away not believing any of it. We were so broken a year ago…barely able to speak to each other, both of our hearts raw from the emotional turmoil of a rocky relationship and dealing with my mental illness. I remember how I sat across from him and fought back tears and words that begged to be spoken as we ate dinner with the boys last New Year’s eve in Philly. I remember sitting in my car afterward, staring at myself in the rearview mirror at a red light, and seeing nothing but pain and loneliness in my eyes…it actually felt as though a knife was cutting through me and all I could think about was how I needed to let go of what was, and enter 2012 with open arms, forcing myself to embrace whatever it brought my way. “Let go…move forward,” were the words I used to describe my plans for the year when my therapist asked. “Well, I think that’s a good approach-you can’t embrace anything new if you’re still holding on to what was….and you can’t move toward anything if you’re focused on what’s behind you,” she replied.

I should call her and tell her how right and necessary her reply to me was at the time. As painful as they were to live out, her words helped me face the heartbreak I had been trying to ignore and parse my way through it, cleaning out all of the junk I’d let pile up in my heart in the process. It hurt like HELL, you hear me? HELL.

But I got through it. I let go. I forgave him. I embraced being his friend, and learned to love him unconditionally…..10 months later, here we are, living as a family in Austin….and getting married in March-the same month we decided to give our relationship one last try back in 2012.

I’m still trying to wrap my head around all that’s happened, and as I sit here thinking about it all, I just feel so much gratitude for the life we’re living at this moment-it’s a far cry from the devastation we had spent the last three years trying to just survive and recover from.

(deep breath)

8 weeks from now, we’ll be standing in an outdoor chapel, in front of those who have always supported us whether we were together or not, and vow to spend the rest of our lives with each other.

EIGHT WEEKS.

Needless to say I’m in full-blown wedding planning mode. (check out my pinterest wedding board!) Even though we’re keeping it a small and simple affair, there are still about a hundred “to-do” items and I’ve spent the last two weeks making reservations, emailing invites, talking to  dress designers, looking at rings….it’s been a whirlwind, but I’m doing my best to not be overwhelmed and enjoy this process because it’s exciting and I want to be present for every part of it.

Both Bertski and I keep saying how much we want that day and the coming weeks to be time of celebration, and every time I think of this, as corny as it sounds, my heart just swells with a joy I haven’t allowed myself to feel in a very, very long time.

So I’m spending the first 3 months of this year celebrating. Dancing, laughing, smiling…I’m giving myself fully to the freedom that’s found in it, and I’d love for you to join me!

How? Well, it’s simple, really. Our friends and family (and some of  YOU) have asked us about wedding gifts and such, so we created a gift registry….

BUT….

What we would really love, far more than an appliance, box of wine glasses, or the Big Bang Theory 400 question Trivia Game, is for people to help us celebrate our marriage by helping us give back. We feel like we’ve been given a tremendous gift, and yes, have been blessed beyond what we imagined these past months, so we’ve made it our goal this year to pay it forward in various ways.

This is where you come in….We have a list of charities and nonprofits that work to address issues that are personal to us or have affected us in some way. They are:

  • Cathedral Kitchen in Camden, NJ
  • Charity Water
  • Nothing but Nets

and the last one….the last one is Postpartum Progress, which many of you know pretty much saved my life after I had Alex, in more ways than one. It directed me to therapy and the treatment I needed, gave me a community of support I didn’t have, and introduced me to women who have become my best friends over the last two years. I honestly would not be here, Bertski and I would not be together if I hadn’t found Katherine Stone and the work she does with Postpartum Progress.

Would you consider making a donation to one of the above charities, especially to Postpartum Progress? It would mean so much to me and would help me give back all that I’ve been given as a result of Katherine’s dedication to making maternal mental health a priority….as well as help Bertski and I support organizations we feel are working hard to address hunger and disease prevention both here in the U.S. and abroad.

I know you probably think I’m crazy or tacky for doing this, but if you do make a donation of any kind, PLEASE email me and let me know. (dudley dot adriane at gmail dot com) I’d love to send you a card or something thanking you for celebrating with me, with us!

So…yeah. I’m getting married. I’M SO EXCITED! Be excited with me!

To learn more about any of the charities/nonprofits listed above, and make a donation, please visit these links:

Postpartum Progress: http://postpartumprogress.org/donate-postpartum-depression-2/ (you can also read the blog here: http://www.postpartumprogress.com/)

Cathedral Kitchen: http://cathedralkitchen.org/

Charity Water: http://www.charitywater.org/

Nothing but Nets: http://nothingbutnets.net/

This Christmas…It’s a Special One For Us Indeed

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The holidays are always hard for me to get through for varying reasons, as I know they are for a lot of people, particularly those of us who live with mental illness.

The one thing that I’ve been focused on amidst all the frenzy of the holiday season and my own erratic moods is simply being grateful that life for the boys and I is not what it was this time last year. Bertski and I weren’t together and it was our first time navigating the tricky process of splitting the holidays with Alex. I hated it. It was lonely…I felt awful that I had contributed to my boys not being able to spend the holidays together, with both of their parents. Christmas was especially difficult for me, and also for Brennan. He kept asking when Alex was coming back, why Alex and Bertski were in Philly and not with us, and I kept fighting back tears and despairing thoughts. I felt hollow, emotionally cold, my mind was dark, and I just wanted it all to be over with. I was angry…bitterness had started to settle in my heart.

This Christmas, however, things are COMPLETELY different. If you’ve been reading along these past months, you know this. Instead of trying to navigate the ups and downs of co-parenting while forging lives independent of each other, Bertski and I are finally finding our way down a path that allows us to be parents AND a couple, building and living a family centric lifestyle-a first for both of us.

This Christmas I also find myself being grateful to say goodbye to life as a single mother and preparing myself to experience the holidays in the years to come as a wife. I don’t regret having to learn the ins and outs of parenting and how to balance the responsibility of it on both of my shoulders. The past 5 1/2 years have taught me a significant amount about myself…about life. It changed me into a new person, someone capable of doing things I didn’t think I’d be able to handle on my own.  I’m grateful for the life I lived as a single parent, but I’m also ready to say goodbye to it. I’m ready to move forward with someone not only willing to share the responsibility of parenting, but also willing to build a life with me. That’s huge for me. I’m used to people walking out of my life and removing me from theirs in one way or another, for varying reasons. I don’t always blame them, but it’s always left me feeling abandoned and unworthy of so many things-like having a family and a partner. To have someone see the value and worth I see in myself and decide to embrace and cherish it, cherish me, is the one gift I’ve begged for since I was a child and never received-until now.

When Bertski asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I told him I wanted nothing and it was the honest truth.  There is nothing material he would’ve purchased at a store that would’ve meant more to me than the gift of love I’ve found in our family and in my friends this year-my heart is too full to hold in anything else.

I hope that if you find yourself feeling lonely or down for whatever reason today you will be able to at least find one thing you can fix your mind on to get you through today and even into the new year just a few days away.  I hope that no matter what you find yourself struggling with in life today, that at least in one way, no matter how small or trivial it may seem, you are better than you were last year. Take some time to reflect on what that one thing make this day a special one for you, one that allows grace and gratitude to abide in your heart…it’s working for me :)

Merry Christmas y’all. Now…enjoy the brilliant weirdness that is Cee-Lo Green’s Magic Moment. Seriously.

My Initial Response to The NRA’s “Database for the Mentally Ill” Request

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“How many more copycats are waiting in the wings for their moment of fame from a national media machine that rewards them with wall-to-wall attention and a sense of identity that they crave, while provoking others to try to make their mark,” LaPierre said. “A dozen more killers, a hundred more? How can we possibly even guess how many, given our nation’s refusal to create an active national database of the mentally ill?”-Wayne LaPierre, NRA lobbyist

The NRA sickens me. Truly. They just gave a completely tone-deaf and disrespectful response to what occurred a week ago today. They believe arming school officials and having armed guards at school will prevent such tragedies. I don’t agree with this perspective at all for varying reasons, but I know there are those of you who do. I don’t want to debate that with you today. I simply want to address the question asked at the end of the above statement.

I’m a mother of two boys.

I’m a USAF disabled veteran and former police officer.

I’ve survived Postpartum Depression and Anxiety.

I currently live with mental illnesses called rapid cycling Bipolar Disorder type II and OCD.

 I take medication for these illness. 4 of them. Every day. Every.Single.Day.

I go to therapy. I see a psychiatrist.

There are days I struggle to keep it all together and not let the fact that I have some chemical imbalances stop me from living life.

There are days when I want to give up.

I have been hospitalized-not because I was a threat to those around me but because I was a threat to myself.

I am not a violent person, although I have been traumatized by and have experienced violence first hand.

I am not a threat to society.

I have no desire to own a weapon, and never have despite my knowledge of how to use, clean, and take them apart, and being properly trained and qualified on several of them-ranging from the M9 pistol I carried on my hip every shift to the M203 grenade launchers, M249′s, and M4′s I was trained to use in combat during deployments.

I do not belong in a database because I have a mental illness.

My mental illness does not mean I am a violent person.

I am a compliant, law-abiding citizen who still manages to function just like everyone else despite the effects my illness has on me.

My friends who also have mental illnesses? They don’t belong in a database either.

They are just like me: men and women, mothers and fathers living with a painful “invisible” illness but still living their lives, working, raising their children, loving, helping others, and being productive members of society.

If our mental health records should be put into a database, then every person who applies for a weapons permit or who purchases a weapon, should submit to a comprehensive mental health evaluation, comprehensive background check similar to what’s required to obtain a security clearance, and a weapons safety course. You can’t say I should be registered in a mental illness database but not even mention that a more rigorous and comprehensive screening of those applying for weapons permits and buying guns is needs to be monitored as well.

It shouldn’t take less than 20 minutes to walk in to WalMart and walk out with a gun, I don’t care what you’re using it for.

Also? No one should be allowed to own or put together an assault rifle or semiautomatic weapon. I don’t understand why such a deadly weapon should be in the hands of the man who lives next door to me.

Yes, you have the right to bear arms, but maybe the kind of arms you’re entitled to bear should be re-evaluated. Yes, you have the right to protect yourself in case of a threat or danger…but we all saw how that played out with the Trayvon Martin incident, didn’t we? Maybe we start redefining what a threat is and what self-defense actually looks like. Maybe we start asking ourselves some hard questions and making some compromises. Not saying I’m right. Not saying the solutions or answers to this are simple. Just thinking out loud here.

You have the right to bear arms, but guess what? I have rights too. I have the right to have access to mental health services and resources that aren’t underfunded and understaffed; services and resources that have qualified professionals working for them who treat us with the respect and dignity we deserve just as much as “normal” people.

You have your rights. What about mine? And the other 1 in 5 people who live with some form of mental illness in this country? You have a right to arm yourself…we have our rights to privacy…and to the same life you do.

Those who live with mental illness are not all dangerous. We don’t all need to be tagged and stored in some database. If you REALLY think we do, then I say you should be too. Because while you may not have a mental illness you could be just as capable of violence. ANYONE with access to a gun can quickly and easily become a criminal-yes, even “responsible good guy gun owners.”

I am mentally ill. I am not violent. I don’t belong in your database. Stop stigmatizing me and those just like me. Stop using us to redirect criticism and calls to action by saying we are the problem. We are not your scapegoat.

I guess the old cliché is true: “you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” No you can’t. Not when their greed disguised as advocating for”rights” is stronger than their desire to admit they could stand to learn a few things.

Go fuck yourself, NRA and hold another press conference when you have something more substantial to say.